Best Friend to Wife and Mother? by Caroline Anderson

Author:Caroline Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMY LAY ON her side, one leg draped over his, her head pillowed on his chest, her lips tilting into a smile of utter contentment and wonder as his hand stroked idly over her back.

So that’s what the fireworks were like. The chemistry she’d dismissed. The ‘amazing’ that she’d never, ever found before.

His lips brushed her hair, his breath warm against her scalp, and she turned her head so she could reach his mouth.

He kissed her slowly, lazily, shifting so he was facing her, his hand sliding round her ribcage and settling on her breast, and she snuggled closer, feeling the jut of his erection against her body as her leg curled over his hip and drew him up against her.

He groaned, deep in his chest, the vibrations resonating through his breath and into her like the faint tremors of an earthquake. ‘I want you,’ he breathed raggedly. ‘I need you—so much. Oh, Amy—’

He rolled her onto her back, their bodies coming together instinctively, surely, and she felt the first quivers of another shattering climax ripple through her body. ‘Leo...’

‘I’m here. I’ve got you...’

His head fell forward into the curve of her neck, his mouth open, his breath hot against her skin as he said her name over and over again while she fell, spiralling down and down, reaching out, clinging to him as his body caught up with hers and took them both over the edge.

Their muted cries tangled in the soft light of dawn, their bodies blurring into one, and as their hearts slowed and their breathing quietened, he rolled to the side, taking her with him into sleep.

* * *

Leo lay beside her, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of his tangled emotions.

All these years, he’d been so careful to preserve their friendship, to keep it platonic, to treasure the bond they had without crossing the invisible line between them. It had been so vitally important to him, his respect for Amy’s friendship so deeply ingrained that it hadn’t ever occurred to him to muddy the waters by sleeping with her. Other women had fulfilled that need for him, women who didn’t trust him or depend on him or need him, women who wanted from him only what he wanted from them. Women who weren’t Amy, or anything like Amy, because Amy was sacrosanct, untouchable.

Well, he’d certainly touched her now, the line well and truly crossed, and there was no going back. What he didn’t know was what lay ahead, because he had nothing to offer her except the few scraps of himself that were left over from work and from caring for his daughter. And it hadn’t been enough for Lisa, so why on earth did he imagine it could be enough for Amy?

He groaned silently.

He should never have kissed her, never have let her lead him into her bedroom, never peeled away the flimsy barriers of their clothing and with them the protective layers of their friendship, exposing the raw need and desperate hunger that lurked beneath.

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